“I’d do okay in prison. Helps that I love having sex with women.”

“This isn’t helping my erection,” Nico said.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but you’re too pretty to lie to.”

Nora sat on the edge of the bed and pulled a pin from her now mussed mane of hair. Nico stopped her hand and with a spin of his finger indicated she should turn around. She raised an eyebrow and turned her back to him. One by one, Nico extracted the hairpins and unwound the low knot at the nape of her neck. Then he threaded his fingers through the waves, breaking them apart.

“You said getting arrested brought you and Kingsley and your priest together?” Nico asked as he took the hairbrush from her hand. Nora stiffened. The only man who had ever brushed her hair for her had been Søren. It seemed almost traitorous to let Nico do it. And yet, she couldn’t stop him. She needed the comfort and the contact far too much. Nothing felt more exquisite than the gentle pull of the brush through her hair. If only untangling the knots in her stomach were this easy.

“Yes, it was Kingsley who helped keep me out of juvenile detention. I was sentenced to twelve hundred hours of community service, which I had to complete before I turned eighteen. And here’s the fun part—Kingsley made sure the judge assigned Søren to monitor my community service. Soon I was feeding the hungry and hanging out with the homeless and scrubbing toilets and teaching poor kids how to make tassel bookmarks at summer camp.”

“Better than prison?”

“It was. Until I f**ked it up. But that was Kingsley’s fault. He was getting me into trouble before we even met.”

“He’s talented.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What happened?”

Nora turned her head to the side so Nico could reach all her tangles.

“It was June. I was sixteen. And my lawyer had put me under house arrest. She told me I could go to school but nowhere else. Not even church. So the day my community service started was the first time I’d seen Søren in months. Things got weird. Fast.”

Nico gave a low, warm laugh and kissed that sensitive spot on her back between her shoulder blades.

“How weird?”

“The story starts with a stick in the ground and ends with an orgy.”

“As every story should.”

10

Eleanor

AT 9:00 A.M. SHARP THE DAY AFTER SCHOOL ENDED for summer break, Eleanor walked into Sacred Heart Catholic Church for the first time since March. She knew she’d be working that day so she’d put on an old white T-shirt and cutoff denim shorts and pulled her hair back in a ponytail.

She went to Søren’s office. Not Søren, she corrected herself. Father Stearns. She said it a few more times in her head. Father. Stearns. Other parishioners hung around the church, and the last thing she wanted to do was slip up and call him by his real first name. People were already going to be suspicious of a teenage girl at the beck and call of a handsome young priest. No reason to make things worse. Father. Stearns. Not. Søren. She could do this.

She knocked on his office door and took a step back. He opened the door.

“Hi, Søren,” she said.

He arched an eyebrow at her.

“I mean, Father Stearns.”

“This is going to be an issue for us, isn’t it?”

“Probably.”

He paused a moment before speaking again.

“Come with me. We need to talk.”

She followed him out to the back of the church and onto the shaded lawn. She had to stretch her legs to keep up with his long stride. He led her to a path, which bordered a small public park.

“First, how are you, Eleanor? I haven’t seen you in months.”

“Sorry about that. House arrest. But I’m okay. I’m grounded for life.”

“I can’t blame your mother for that decision. But you will start attending church again.”

“Your wish is my command,” she said, stuffing her hands in the back pockets of her shorts.

“A good attitude to adopt. I heard your father was arrested.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, big shock there. He was eight states away by the time they caught that f**ker. Sorry.”

“You were arrested, and he ran. You have my permission to call him anything you like.”

“Thank you. I’m sure he was scared, right? That’s why he ran.”

“You deserve better than someone who will abandon you in times of trouble.”

“He’s out on bail now. He’s tried to call a few times.”

“You will not speak to him.”

She stopped and Søren stopped and looked at her.

“He’s my father.”

“The moment he chose to protect himself instead of protecting his daughter is the moment his rights to see you, speak to you or even be in the same room with you ceased to exist. We made a deal, Eleanor. You obey my orders. This is one of them. You understand this?”

She paused before answering. She’d hoped the whole “obeying” thing with Søren would involve orders like “take your clothes off” and “get into my bed.” A deal was a deal, however.

“I understand.”

“Good. Your well-being is my top priority. I’m supervising your community service, which puts you in my hands. I take this responsibility very seriously. There can be no part of your life you keep from me if I’m going to help you find the right path.”